One of the most difficult things I’ve had to do as a mother is watch my children agonize as they wait for the arrival of true love. It didn’t really help to tell them to hang in there, have faith, that God had the perfect person just for each of them; they were each convinced at one time or another that it just wasn’t going to happen.
I tried telling them that God’s heart for them was for their deep fulfillment and abiding happiness, and that He knows the desires of their hearts. Four sons awaited their beloveds, and then came our beautiful daughter, our lady-in-waiting, who feared her prince would never come.
I got to thinking one night about the young man God has in mind for her, and what he must be thinking. Hoping it might bolster her faith in the waiting time, I wrote something I imagined might come from…
Each morning with its new sunrise,
My young heart softly speaks your name
In a prayer-like seeking some would call
Some kind of silly children’s game.
Though it’s anything but childish
As you echo gently in my mind;
I know you’re out there somewhere
Like a precious gem for me to find.
I don’t have to know your name to know
You were created just for me,
So for now I’ll just keep waiting
For the treasure I know you to be.
I’m sure no one around can grasp
What only our Creator knows:
You are being fashioned for me,
My divinely formed and perfect rose.
The fear that someone else will come
And turn your eye and take your hand
And pluck my rose before she blooms
Is nearly more than I can stand.
I want to rush to claim you now,
But I know rushing in is wrong;
For now I know that I must trust
That God will keep you safe and strong.
I know it’s hard, my love, but please…
Our season will yet come to be.
I promise you the tears you’ve shed
Will all be worth it—wait and see.
Each moment that goes by will bring
Us closer to the day we’ll meet;
It’s hard to even dream such joy
Or guess how quickly hearts can beat.
I’m praying that somehow you know
I’m waiting for you patiently,
I hold to the unspoken promise
You’ll keep waiting there for me.
Epilogue: Her prince did come, in God’s perfect timing. Friend, who or what are you waiting for? Can you muster the faith to hold on while you wait?
A Write Where It Hurts post